


Sic Transit Gloria

by topdennis



Series: The Art of Growing Up [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Bad Parenting, Coming Out, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fantasizing, Frotting, Hand Jobs, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Porn, Possibly Unrequited Love, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Crush, dub-con, mild dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:37:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topdennis/pseuds/topdennis
Summary: Based on the premise of "Sic Transit Gloria" by Brand New, Mac has sex with a girl for the first time which sets off a chain of events that force him to face his sexuality head-on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi all! Got inspired by this song and I can't get it out of my head. Just a warning, there is no macdennis yet in this chapter--only hints of it. But this will ultimately lead to macdennis later on, and in the sequel. Your comments and validation keep me inspired so let me know what you think!

**** “C’mon, Mac,” she hummed, tugging on his hand as she took a slow sip out of the red plastic cup, eyes trained on his in a way that was supposed to be flirty, but came across as something a little more predatory.

“You come on,” Mac tried to chuckle, glancing around at the other people at the party, wondering if any of them had noticed the pretty blonde chatting him up.

Mac’s palms weren’t sweating—it was just the condensation off of his warm beer.

“I’m serious,” she reiterated, stepping closer into his space so her leg was tucked between his, hips pressed flush as she bit her lips together playfully.

This was the moment all of his friends told him about, wasn’t it? That definitive moment between being a stupid boy and a man.  _ “Look for the ‘fuck me’ eyes, dude. Once you get that look, you’ll know.”  _ Well, those were ‘fuck me’ eyes if he ever saw them.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear, her warm breath making him shiver as his stomach churned. These were definitely just excited butterflies. Very excited butterflies. So excited that they were starting to make him nauseous. Now if only those butterflies would fly down to his dick and get shit started down there—then he’d be in business. “We can use Joey’s parents’ room.”

“Condom,” Mac choked out before he could manage a more coherent thought. It punched out of him involuntarily, but at least it meant some part of his brain was working. “I don’t have a condom…leant it to a friend.” Dennis would give him shit later for being unprepared for  _ the  _ moment, but safe was safe. Oh well. Another time. 

“I always keep one on me,” she smiled, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she swayed lightly. Knocking back the rest of her beer, she pushed Mac back a few steps into the wall, two fingers sneaking beneath the hem  of his shirt and tracing the thin line of dark hair that led into his jeans.

“Great!” Mac exclaimed, probably a little too loudly, but she seemed to like the enthusiasm. It only drew a passing glance from the few people around him.

“Follow me,” she hummed, tugging his hand and leading him to the stairs.

This was it. Time to grow up. Every footfall felt heavy and echoed in his joints, but that just had to be an effect of the alcohol and the glue he huffed with Charlie before they left. Mac’s eyes trailed up the girl’s legs to where her little black dress rode up just high enough that he could see she’d forgotten her underwear.

How could someone be dumb enough to forget to wear underwear? Sure, girls wore such small little things that it probably didn’t cover enough to feel noticeably missing anyway, but—

“Like the view?” she teased with a twinkling in her eye and a high-pitched giggle that sounded on just the wrong side of amused.

Mac flushed. It was intentional. Of course it was. For as much porn as he watched, none of it covered  _ this  _ shit. It wasn’t like he could type ‘How do you small talk with a girl before she fucks you?’ into pornhub and get any results. Then again…he’d never tried.

This shit came so easily to Dennis, but Mac felt like a stupid baby horse who didn’t know how to walk as they reached the landing. “Yeah,” he answered belatedly, dropping his gaze as two people left the room she was clearly dragging him to. The boy gave him a knowing nod and a congratulatory smile. The girl looked anywhere but at him, almost mirroring his body language.

But that wouldn’t work. He wasn’t the girl. He needed to get his shit together. Mac was a man’s man like his dad, and he would make him proud. He’d come home, and tell him he’d fucked a hot blonde tonight, and his father would crack a smile at him, clap him on the shoulder, and tell him he was proud.

The door closed behind them, the room lit in a warm yellow glow.

Tonight was the night.

So why wasn’t he excited?

It was clearly just because he didn’t want to fuck this up. It was a lot of pressure, after all. He didn’t want this girl to know he was a virgin. And if he sucked, she’d probably tell everyone, and then he’d be the butt of even more jokes. No, Mac had this under control. It was fucking. It would come naturally to him.

She pushed Mac hard onto the mattress and he fell back, bouncing a little on the old springs. The bedspread smelled faintly of perfume and cigarettes, but he couldn’t tell if that was the scent in the whole house, or just from the couple who’d occupied the room before him.

Focus.

When Mac blinked his mind back to the present, the pretty girl was tugging off her dress, leaving her only in her heels and her bra. This wasn’t a computer screen. This was real life. Real time. And his dick still wasn’t getting the message. Swallowing past his dry mouth, he tentatively reached down and started palming himself through his jeans, willing his shit to get into motion.

“Move back, baby,” She hummed to him, running her fingers through her blonde hair, pushing it over her shoulder. “Let me help you with that.”

Mac had to bite himself back from saying no, fumbling a little as he shifted back against the pillows and watching as she crawled up the bed so that she knelt on either side of his thighs. The butterflies in his stomach were whipping around like a fucking twister in his gut, and he really thought he was going to be sick. Maybe huffing that glue wasn’t the best idea.

“Relax, baby…” she murmured as she slid down his zipper, his own fingers tightening in the sheets down at his sides.

“Relax? I’m relaxed. Of course I’m relaxed!” Mac said quickly, a quaver in his voice that made him want to disappear. He sounded like a stupid fucking kid, not a man who knew what he was doing.

“S’okay,” she murmured, teasing slender, too-small, fingers over the soft bulge in his jeans, and Mac could feel himself tense. “Maybe you’ll feel better in the dark…” she offered with a wink, laying herself against him and reaching to click off the light.

With the sudden proximity, hair in his face and uncomfortable angles pressing against him, he really started to feel like something was wrong. These weren’t good nerves. This wasn’t that thrill of excitement he felt with Charlie when they stood too close to the tracks and could feel the train make the ground rumble. This wasn’t that swell of adrenaline he felt when Dennis grabbed his shoulder, leaned in close, and told him what kind of scheme they were gonna run to get out of school for the day without getting caught.

This felt like that time when he was eight. It felt like when he ran himself a bath that was a little too hot and his parents weren’t home. He’d tried to do a make-shift bubble bath with some body wash, but all it did was make the bottom of the tub slippery. As he stepped in, he slipped backwards and under the water, knocking his head. He was dazed and disoriented beneath the water, stuck there for a moment as he tried to remember how to make his arms work. He thought he might drown that night if he never found the strength to move.

Even after he surfaced, it felt hard to breathe. It was panic and steam and too-strong smelling soap. He’d dragged himself out of the tub and then the bathroom, curled up in a ball, clutching his towel as he coughed up water and soap and nerves.

Hair across his face, head a little foggy from the substances, and her perfume filling his nose…the churning in his stomach was the same as he’d felt curled up alone in the hallway when he was eight.

Mac felt like he was drowning.

The lights were out, and he was blind, going by feel as her hands slid down his sides, then pushed his shirt up so it was bunched around his armpits. At the pressure on his groin again, he caught her fingers, staring into the darkness where he assumed her face was. “We don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” Mac said weakly, breath catching in his throat as her other hand wound its way into his pants, tugging at him through his boxers.

“I do,” she promised, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

And of course she did, because normal people were excited to have sex. Fuck, Mac knew there was something wrong with him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Why wasn’t he into this? She was gorgeous. He was eighteen. She was more than eager.

Her hair tickled his abdomen as she leaned down, mouthing him through his boxers, and the wet heat made his knuckles turn white as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, giving another tug at where he lay limp and useless.

“Drank too much,” he tried to excuse with a weak laugh.

“Guess I’ll have to work a little harder,” she murmured flirtily.

Mac felt like a freak for wanting to tell her not to bother. He needed to make his father proud. To show Dennis he could keep up with him. To have a story to tell Charlie the next time he slept over because his parents were fighting.

 

Maybe if he just didn’t think about it; maybe if he just disconnected and let his body do it’s job. She seemed more than capable, and that was like...basic dick science. You touch it, and it gets hard. It was his stupid brain that was causing the disconnect.

Open air hit Mac’s dick as she pulled it from his boxers, and just like that, it was enveloped in the wet heat of her mouth. Disconnect. Think about anything.

Think about porn.

Mac did his best to breathe as he let his mind shift to one of his favorite pornos. It was shot from behind the guy’s ass, giving a full good shot of his dick as he fucked her--all about the penetration. That was the best porn to watch as far as he was concerned. No shopping to make sure that the people fucking were hot. No stupid story line. Just dicks in vaginas, doing their thing. Sometimes, if he was honest, he’d find the ones where the guy was fucking the girl so hard his balls would make that slapping sound, and they’d both be so loud so it was just that visual with the sounds of pleasure, deep and low and guttural--

“There you are,” the girl grinned beside his cock. With his eyes a little more adjusted to the light, he could see the faint way the light from the window reflected off her profile. “Knew you had it in you.”

Oh. Shit. He was hard. Okay! He could get through this--wanted this. Hard-on’s never made him feel like someone was grinding up his stomach, but it was just the nerves. His body wanted it, so that meant he did too.

 

“Want me to ride you, baby?” she slurred, kissing her way up his chest, and he could feel her tits as they slid up his chest. He’d never been much of a boob guy, but well...boobs were boobs. He could figure it out.

“This is so messed up,” Mac breathed involuntarily.

“What?” she asked, pulling back a little from where she’d been nibbling at his neck.

“Yes,” he corrected, face flushed. “R-Ride me,” he added, and then suddenly he was suffocating under her mouth on his as she ground herself against his erection.

As her tongue snaked into his mouth, he knew that he’d fucked up. He didn’t want this. Something really was wrong with him, because he was  _ supposed _ to want this, but he didn’t. He’d rather just lay there in the dark room; rather just feel a body close to him and talk. Maybe not hers—he didn’t even know her fucking name—but someone.

When him and Charlie would have sleepovers, they’d sometimes wind up closer than they were probably supposed to lay. Shoulder to shoulder, their legs tangling a little if it was cold, they’d stare up at the dark ceiling and talk about anything; about actors they liked, stupid shit at school, friends…those moments felt more intimate than this.

And then suddenly there was a different kind of heat around his dick that made him choke and tense, eyes blown wide as he stared at the ceiling. It was tight, warm, and overwhelming as it slid over him. Her lips moved to the crook of his jaw as she moaned, and the sound was supposed to be sexy, but it was… _ wrong _ . Too high. Too breathy. Too smooth. It wasn’t the sounds he’d come to get off to in the porn he’d watched.

So this was it. He’d lost it. Virginity gone. A tick off the checklist of becoming a man. Maybe it was like this for everyone? Maybe it was super hyped up because if everyone admitted that sex kinda sucked, no one would do it, and then the population would die off. God did say that sex was for procreation. Maybe he made it suck because he didn’t want it to be for anything else.

Still didn’t explain why people constantly sought it out. And there was no way that many people would all get down on one lie and universally agree.

So maybe that meant Mac really was the freak. Why else wouldn’t he like this hot blonde who was currently fucking herself on his dick, completely oblivious to the fact that he very much hated this? His dick was hard, sure, and the stimulation was doing something, because he could feel that tell-tale tightening in his lower abdomen, but he was on autopilot as his mind was far and away.

Shit—she was talking. Mac blinked back to himself, jaw tight and clenched as his skin crawled at the sounds that filled the otherwise silent room. “What?” he choked out, the sound coming out punched.

“Said you’re so quiet,” she whined, hips gyrating as they continually ground into him in a way that could not possibly feel good. “How does it feel?”

_ Like I’m drowning _ . “Good,” Mac managed, adding in what he hoped sounded like a sexy grunt. It probably didn’t.

“Fuck yeah…fuck, Mac, I bet you like that,” she cooed, her voice straight out of a very bad amateur video, and he briefly wondered if she didn’t like it either—if they were both playing a part in this charade. What if she really just wanted to lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling, content to just be close to someone, just like he did? There was so much pressure on people like them. Pressure to perform or conform. Maybe it was the pressure that was suffocating him more than her perfume.

Or maybe she was just a slut who liked to have sex.

“M’so close, babe,” she moaned, and the relief felt like breaking the surface for just a breath before his own nearing climax dragged him back down. Coming had never felt so shameful or dirty in all the times he’d jerked off.

“Just…fucking come,” Mac gritted out, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried to filter through images in his mind to help him topple over that cliff and be done. He tried sifting through different porn stars, to the videos he could remember, flicking through a mental spank-bank. That one video…it was short…only a minute and a half. He always went to it. Just after the guy in the video came, he pulled out and bent down to move the camera closer and it caught a clip of his face. Brown hair, blue eyes, sharp cheekbones. On a second thought, the guy looked kind of like an older Dennis and—“Fuck!” he yelped, feeling himself nosedive off of the shameful cliff he’d climbed up.

“Oh fuck yeah, baby—come inside me—yes!” the girl moaned, slowing her movements until she stopped with him still inside her, sitting flush against him as she ran thin fingers up and down his stomach.

Mac was shaking, nauseous, a little alarmed by the timing of his climax with his thoughts—but that was a total accident. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d accidentally come at the wrong part of a porno. There was nothing worse than an orgasm wasted on whenever the guy pulled out, or you saw the dude’s face, or whatever. It was just the real life version of that.

He felt sweaty and sticky and disgusting. She’d never put a condom on him, but that was her problem, not his. 

The girl pulled off of him with a noise that turned his stomach before laying down beside him, tracing patterns on his chest. “You okay, babe?” she asked. “You liked that, right?”

“Yeah, course I did,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “What normal guy wouldn’t like that?” he added with a little scoff.

This was the part he said he wanted, wasn’t it? The lying close and talking? So why the hell did this feel wrong too? Christ, he really was a trainwreck.

“So…” the blonde started, walking her fingertips up to his neck and tracing the lines of his throat.

“So this has been great, but I think we should go back downstairs,” Mac interrupted quickly.

The blonde blinked, lifting her head a little. “Oh…really?” she asked, seemingly disappointed.

“Yeah I uh…my friend is waiting for me, and we’re supposed to head home together,” Mac lied, feeling a little guilty pit in his stomach. This wasn’t her fault. She wanted him, and apparently liked him enough to want him to stay, but he didn’t think he could handle being around her for another minute. “I’m sorry,” he added quickly, shooting an apologetic look before stumbling out of the bed and tugging his pants up. “Just..uh…not feeling well,” he offered, which was probably the truest thing he could have said. “I’ll see you around!”

And with that, Mac was out the door, tripping down the stairs and pushing through people, looking for Charlie. Eventually, Mac found him, unsurprisingly sitting in a corner with a cat in his lap. “Hey dude…let’s go home,” he said.

Charlie wasn’t stupid, he knew that look. Something had unsettled Mac, and he needed to be away from everything. He needed a joint, and a beer, and to spend the night at his house until whatever spooked him had passed. They usually revolved around his father doing something mean, or his mother ignoring him. The worst were the ones where he went to church and the priest got all passionate about something; Mac usually didn’t even piece together why he felt unsettled, but Charlie wasn’t stupid. Charlie could always piece it together.

“Course, man, let’s go,” Charlie agreed, putting the cat on the floor and placing a reassuring hand on Mac’s shoulder and guiding him out of the house.

What was odd was the timing of this freak out. He hadn’t been home in hours and Charlie knew Mac’s parents wouldn’t have tried to reach out to him or something. It was Friday night, so there was no church to fuck him up. Someone at the party had to have done something to spook him, but he didn’t have a clue as to who or what it was.

Still, Charlie knew better than to just launch into it. When Mac was upset, he had to talk about it on his own or he would shut down, and then he’d just internalize whatever it was before Charlie could push it away and try and help.

“My mom bought more beer,” Charlie offered, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at Mac. He looked a little pale—maybe he just wasn’t feeling well? He looked worse for wear than usual.

“Good,” Mac agreed, clearing his throat. He blinked a moment, like he was remembering something, before he pulled a small bowl out of his pocket, and a baggie.

“You don’t wanna wait til we get to the house?” Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Mac replied firmly, hands shaking as he fumbled with the little glass bowl, struggling to pack it. Something was really wrong.

“You want my help…?” Charlie offered, chewing his lip.

“Just—lay off and let me do it,” Mac snapped, finally putting the baggie away and pulling out a lighter. After taking one long drag, he finally passed it over to Charlie, shoulders unbunching just a little at the first wave of his high.

Charlie didn’t try for conversation for the rest of their walk home. They passed the bowl back and forth before Mac finally dumped the ash and put it all away, eyes straight ahead and unfocused. Sighing, Charlie unlocked the front door and guided Mac inside, knowing his mother was long since asleep as he gestured up the stairs. “Go lay down. I’ll get us some beers,” he murmured, heading into the kitchen. Mac wordlessly obliged.

Charlie didn’t have a clue what was wrong with Mac. Something at the party, obviously, but what the hell could it be? Mac usually loved parties—he was the happiest drunk Charlie knew—but come to think of it, he’d been kind of quiet through this one, talking to that one girl. Charlie had gone off to find booze, finding a cat instead, and that was how he’d spent his night, but he hadn’t seen Mac again until he’d walked over, insisting they go home.

Maybe the girl did something.

Great. Charlie sighed and headed upstairs, closing his bedroom door with his foot. Stripping into his t-shirt and briefs, just like Mac, he passed over a beer and laid back, shoulder to shoulder, as they drank in silence for a few minutes.

 

Between the weed, the beer, and the familiar comfort of Charlie’s bed, Mac finally began to relax, though his skin still felt wrong. He felt dirty and like he could still smell her damn perfume all over him. Sure, it mostly smelt like weed, but her scent was persistent.

Charlie was waiting for him. He knew that. He never made Mac talk when he was upset, but he wouldn’t let conversation drift elsewhere until he did. Sighing, he knocked back half his beer before setting it aside and rubbing his face. “I lost it tonight,” he said quietly.

Truthfully, Mac could have said it better. He could have said, ‘I fucked that hot blond,’ or ‘Finally got laid,’ but neither of them felt right.

“Lost what?” Charlie asked, not looking at him. It was amazing how well he knew Mac and what he needed when he was stressed.

“My uh...virginity,” Mac replied, and silence hung in the room for a moment.

“With that girl you were talking to?” Charlie asked calmly.

“Yeah…” Mac said carefully. He’d been hoping the anxiety he’d been feeling would settle with him telling Charlie the truth, but he still felt nauseous.

“It wasn’t good then,” Charlie sighed, rubbing his face a little.

“No…I mean, it  _ was _ , but…I don’t know, man,” Mac groaned. “I felt like I was gonna throw up the whole time. Like I couldn’t breathe. I should be bouncing off the goddamn walls right now, and yet here I am, laying here, miserable,” Mac whined.

“Well…why do you think you didn’t like it? She looked hot,” Charlie reasoned. “Short of her being bad in bed,” he shrugged.

“I mean, I came, but I had to think about other shit. She was like a fucking porn star, dude,” Mac sighed with exasperation. “Did the whole strip tease thing…sucked me off…took charge. She rode me. She fucking rode me, and I was like a frozen little bitch.”

“Maybe you were just panicked cause you didn’t know what you were doing?” Charlie offered.

“I’ve watched enough porn, dude. And even then, like…like she did all the work. I could have been a fucking cripple and she’d have gotten me off.”

“Well…maybe you just don’t like sex,” Charlie said tentatively, glancing at Mac.

“ _ What? _ ” Mac scoffed, eyebrows crinkling in confusion.

“Now wait—hear me out,” Charlie said, holding up his hands defensively. “Like…okay, so…sex is gross, dude. I’m serious, like…watching porn, it’s like… _ nasty _ . There’s all those like…fluids, and it’s sweaty, and loud. There’s that slapping shit that balls do that just… _ ulgh _ ,” Charlie shivered, shaking his head. “Maybe you just like the idea of sex?”

Mac sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I dunno, man…I think…like…I watch porn all the time. I like watching it. I like the sounds and the…physical stuff. I had to picture porn just to get hard for her tonight,” Mac mumbled, lifting his hands to cover his face. “I’m a fucking freak. That’s all there is to it. God really fucked up on this one for me.”

Charlie was quiet for a few minutes as he processed. Mac could tell there were questions sitting on the tip of his tongue, but for whatever reason, he swallowed them back and just shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mac,” he breathed. “Maybe you just need to sleep on it.”

And just like that, he was free from having to talk about it. Mac felt a little glad that the subject was dropped, but it did nothing for the anxiety in his stomach. He and Charlie always solved his problems, and this one was just more confusing.

But the subject was dropped and done. File closed, if only for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Heads up--if you are triggered by the f-slur or panic attacks, this chapter may not be for you. If those things bother you, shoot me an ask on tumblr and I'll fill you in on what happened!

“Dee?” Mac called out, poking her head into her room. “Goddamn it—are neither of you home?” he sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed her laptop and falling onto her bed. 

A frequent visitor to the Reynold’s home, he knew where they kept their spare key, and used it often. He’d come by to talk to Dennis to see if he could get some answers as to what happened to him last night without actually admitting that he was a weirdo, but he was nowhere to be found. Dee was an okay-enough back up plan, but the bird was gone too. At least he knew her password.

Opening her computer and keying in the code, he settled in to scroll through facebook when the unmistakable sound of humping and groaning filled the room, and he was faced head in with two hunky looking dudes. One of them was bent over a bed, fingers tangled in the sheets and face twisted in pleasure as the other dude stood behind him, plowing into him like it was nobody’s business.

Dee...Dee had been watching gay porn. His face was bright red, but for the life of him, he couldn’t look away. He’d always adamantly avoided anything gay in his wanderings of the x-rated side of the internet. Aside from it being a huge sin, he imagined it would be terrible. Two men, acting like women, all wimpy and pathetic as they committed treason against God.

But these guys? They weren’t wimpy at all… They were buff, and trim. And the sex they were having looked rough and sexy and…and…

Oh no.

Mac’s face went white as he felt that all-too familiar pooling in his gut, but it came on so much faster than it usually did.

He had a fucking hard on from the gay porn Dee was watching.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen. Slowly, things started slotting into place. The kind of porn he watched. The images that helped him get hard. The blonde feeling too small and soft and smooth. Her perfume suffocating him.

He didn’t like it because he didn’t like girls--

\--No! Mac shut off the train of thought as fast as he possibly could. He liked girls. Loved girls. Girls were great and wonderful and he had sex with one last night and he wasn’t some faggot sinner and...and...

And he was going to be sick. He shoved the computer aside and darted out of Dee’s room and down the hall to the bathroom. Throwing the door open, he had to swallow the bile back as he was faced head on with Dee, hair twisted up in that weird way girls did, and a fluffy pink bathrobe. There was white around her mouth that he belatedly realized was toothpaste, and…well…just like that, his boner was all but gone. Of fucking course it was.

“The hell are you doing here?” Dee asked, spitting into the sink and crossing her arms.

“Uh…looking for Dennis…?” Mac tried, hoping desperately to come across as even half way normal.

“You’re looking for my brother in the bathroom…?” Dee asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh…no. Not quite like that…” Mac mumbled.

“Whatever,” Dee huffed, rinsing her mouth and toothbrush before shoving past him. “You may as well go home. Dennis isn’t going to be home for a few hours,” she called behind him as she headed for her room.

Her room where the gay porn was still playing on her laptop.

“Wait—Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee!” Mac chattered quickly, tripping as he tried to chase after her.

Too late.

“You got onto my laptop?” Dee yelped, wheeling on him with an expression he was much more used to on Dennis as dramatic moans echoed in the background. “You’re watching my _porn_?”

“It’s not like that,” he tried to defend. “I didn’t think you were home and I was bored!”

“So you were gonna jerk off in my room?” Dee shrieked.

“No!” Mac groaned. “I don’t watch that gay shit…apparently you do, though,” he replied, turning it around on her.

Dee flushed a little, faltering before shaking her head and pushing on. “You could have just closed it out,” she whined, glancing away. “Instead you leave it here and come barreling into the bathroom to do god knows what..”

“I was just…startled,” Mac lied lamely. “Christ—would you just make it stop?” he insisted, doing his best to block out the sounds that threatened to make him hard again.

Dee rolled her eyes and went over to her laptop, slamming it shut. Mac couldn’t hide the relief on his face.

“Why the hell do you watch that shit anyway. You’re not a gay guy,” he muttered.

Dee raised an eyebrow. “Because it’s hot? No girls getting treated like shit. Just two hot guys making sexy noises while they fuck.”

Mac chewed his lip as he leaned against the doorframe, trying to consider the logic.

“It’s like…the same reasons you guys watch lesbian porn. Why look only focus on one person out of two that you’re attracted to, rather than both? That shit goes both ways.”

“I mean I don’t watch…” Mac started, but he trailed off. Somehow, he didn’t think admitting that was going to go in his favor. “Whatever. You’re still weird,” he finished lamely, crossing his arms uncomfortably.

Dee tilted her head to the side a little, eyes narrowing, and Mac suddenly felt like he was under a microscope, sweating under a hot lamp. “Why did you run to the bathroom?” she asked, voice suddenly sickly sweet like she was narrowing in on something. “Why didn’t you just close out the screen and move on?”

There was that bile creeping back up his throat as he stood there awkwardly in the middle of the floor, wishing he had something to hide his face in, or at least fiddle with to mask how nervous he was. Just on the brink of an enormous and nauseating personal discovery, and Dee had honed in on it like a hawk, pinning him to the spot.

“Cause…cause that gay shit makes me wanna vomit,” Mac replied.

“Mac…” Dee hummed, tilting her head a little more, and if Mac wasn’t so nervous, he’d have been able to make a killer bird joke.

“What, Dee? What are you trying to get at?” he snapped.

Dee looked to be on the verge of words, but she cut herself off and sighed, getting up. Turning her back to Mac, she slipped pajama pants on under her robe and took the towel out of her hair so little blond tendrils fell messily around her face. Without her brace on, she almost looked…kind of normal.

Mac watched as she sat back down on the bed and patted the space next to her. He wasn’t stupid—Dee was up to something—but his feet walked him over to the bed anyway like some kind of fucking traitors. “What?” he huffed, though he knew his face probably looked as warm as he felt.

“Would you just sit down?” Dee muttered, tugging on his wrist until he gave in and sat down on the bed, kicking off his sneakers so he could tuck his feet under his knees. “Something’s wrong.”

Mac pulled a face and rolled his eyes, but Dee’s gaze didn’t falter.

“Mac, I’m not stupid,” Dee insisted. “Something’s got you being all weird, and as much as I’d like to tell you to buzz off and leave me alone, I’m not a complete asshole. And I think we can both agree I’ll probably be more useful than Dennis if you’re upset about something.”

Mac didn’t want to admit that Dee was probably right about that. And…and anything she said he said, he could just say she was lying, call her a bird, and no one would be the wiser. “I…fucked a girl last night,” he said carefully.

Dee quirked an eyebrow. “I doubt that’s why you’re upset, so you’re gonna have to give me more than that,” she reasoned.

“I didn’t like it,” Mac added, voice a little smaller as he stared down at his hands, the front of his hair falling across his face.

“Were you attracted to her?” Dee asked, tone surprisingly gentle all things considered. She was getting prime mocking material. Maybe she was just holding out for the big reveal.

“I already went over this with Charlie. She was hot. She was like a goddamned porn star. I didn’t even have to _do_ anything,” Mac explained, the words falling out before he could shut himself up. “She kept moaning, and her perfume was so strong, and I felt like I was going to throw up, even though I definitely didn’t drink too much or anything, and she felt all weird on me…like…like my dick felt gross when she was—,”

“Yeah, okay too much detail,” Dee interrupted, grimacing. “Just…so you didn’t like it. At all. And you don’t think it was because she was doing anything wrong,” she summarized.

“Yeah,” Mac sighed.

Dee was silent for a long minute, and Mac could practically hear the gears turning in her stupid blonde head. “Can I ask you something and you not flip out at me?” she started carefully, shifting a little closer to him.

“No promises,” Mac replied, digging mercilessly at a hangnail in his lap to keep from looking at Dee.

“Have you considered that there’s a chance that…you…might not like women?” Dee said carefully, eyes glued to Mac’s face. “Is that why you freaked out when you saw the porn I was watching?”

Mac was breathing hard. It was one thing for the words to register in his head, but to hear them out loud was suddenly very fucking real, and very fucking scary. “I’m—I’m not a goddamn faggot, Dee,” he spat, but the words came out more broken than angry.

Mac’s chest hurt and his lungs felt like they were tying themselves in knots from the insides.

“Mac?” Came Dee’s voice from beside him, but he couldn’t focus on it—it was weird and distant and far away—and suddenly everything felt like…like _too much_. His clothes felt too scratchy and his jeans felt too tight, and his hair was tickling his forehead too much, and the lights were too bright. His chest hurt, and he couldn’t breathe, and his hands were shaking. “Mac!” Dee said again, but Mac shook his head...her voice was too fucking loud.

And then suddenly he was on his side on the bed, shallow, ragged breaths raking through his chest that felt like fire, and there were hands on his face, and he couldn’t open his eyes, but he could feel Dee was right there, talking—blabbering on about something, but the words felt like gibberish. And her hands were so goddamn cold on his face, or maybe his face was too hot, but he didn’t want to be touched—didn’t want anything to be against him. No clothes, no bed, no hair, and especially not Dee’s hands.

Mac reached up and grabbed Dee’s wrists, trying to pull her hands away, but Dee rolled them over so she was half on top of him, pulling her hands free without much trouble. “Mac,” he could make out this time, the word still sounded muffled as though he were under water. “You gotta breathe, dude.”

Didn't she know he was trying? Mac gave this pathetic sounding whimper as he nodded, trying to breathe slower, but it still made his ribs ache.

“That's it, Mac,” Dee encouraged, pushing the hair out of her face. “You got this...nice and slow.”

Mac gave another weak nod, eyes burning with embarrassment as he slowed his breathing even more, giving shaky little gasps until slowly...slowly, he felt a little more normal.

When Mac properly processed how he was laying, Dee half on top of him with her fingers carding gently through his hair, he looked away, face red and cheeks damp, letting the silence hang in the room for a moment.

“Are you gonna be okay if I pull back?” Dee asked hesitantly.

Mac only nodded.

Dee was quiet for a few moments longer. “You know...it doesn't have to be a bad thing,” she said softly. “None of us would care…”

“I can't be some kind of faggot, Dee,” Mac said, shaking his head as he pulled his knees into his chest. “I'm not some little pussy boy. I'm a man--a badass. Badass men aren't fags.”

Dee shook her head. “Stop calling yourself that,” she murmured. Despite having gotten off of him, she was laid on her side, facing him, and honestly, he never had seen Sweet Dee acting…well, _sweet_ before.

“I can’t be gay, Dee…I really can’t. Aside from the fact that I’d be laughing stock, and my dad would probably kill me, I’d wind up in hell, and I do not want eternal damnation. No thank you. Not at all,” Mac replied, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“So…don’t tell your dad, don’t come out until you’re ready, and…I mean, isn’t God and all that shit supposed to be about love? I don’t get why that’s so bad…”

“Homo-love is a sin. A bad one,” Mac defended.

“Yeah, but…okay so have you ever read the bible?”

“What?” Mac blinked.

“Have you ever read the bible?”

“I mean…no…but I know what it says,” Mac replied defensively, but Dee wasn’t having any part of it.

“No, you know what someone else says it says. There are some priests who aren’t against it. I read that there are some that are like…all about loving gay people and shit. And priests have to basically memorize whatever the bible says, and you haven’t even read it. So maybe it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

Mac went quiet, a lost, perplexed look on his face. Could that be true? Were there priests out there who said it wasn’t bad? Could a person be gay and still get to go to heaven? His father always told him about hell and how scary and painful it was for bad little boys who didn’t do what they were told. But if a _priest_ said it was okay…they had a direct line to God. Surely they would know… “You really think that’s possible?” Mac asked, voice soft and hesitant.

Dee smiled a little at Mac, reaching up to push some hair out of his face. “Yeah, I’m sure,” she promised. “At least consider it. You being gay…it wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

 _Gay_. The word still made his stomach twist. If word got out at school that Ronnie the Rat was a big old queer, he’d never be able to show his face again. “I’ll think about it,” he relented, sighing as he sat up and rubbed his face. “I should go home.”

Dee sat up as well, running her fingers through her hair. “Whatever you need to do.”

“You better not tell anyone,” Mac said with a warning glance. “Because I’ll tell everyone you’re a liar and that you like gay porn,” he threatened.

Dee rolled her eyes and flopped back on the bed. “Yep. You’re welcome. So glad I could help,” she grumbled. “Just get out of my room, dick,” she shooed.

Mac didn’t wait to be told twice. He was out of her room, out of the house, and walking home. It was a long walk, but he didn’t have any complaints today. He had too much running through his head—too much tension in his limbs.

“Gay,” he whispered to himself, tasting the word on his own tongue, shoulders curling a little at the sound.

Nope, he was absolutely not a fan of that. He couldn’t be gay. He was just freaking out over nothing. Mac was still thrown off by the sex, and the gay porn, and Dee was just trying to put ideas in his head. His body was all twisted around and confused, but he would sort it out.

Mac knew there was only one way to be sure, and the thought of it had his stomach curling.

Within a half an hour, he’d made it back home, too nervous and stressed to notice the way his feet were pounding from the walk. Straight through the front door, past his mom who was smoking away in front of her stories, and up into his room where he slammed the door.

His old, beat-up, laptop—a hand-me-down from Charlie—took what felt like a century to turn on, motor groaning under the stress of just pulling up the internet. No one was here. No one would see him. He had to just…try.

Mac opened up Google and stared at the cursor as it blinked at him, daring him to type the words that could send him straight to hell. At Dee’s it wasn’t his fault—an accident. She’d had it open. The devil hadn’t tempted him there, but now?

Sighing, Mac closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, resting his forehead against the sides of his fingertips. “Dear God,” he started. “It’s Mac. Mac McDonald. The one from Philly. Hi. Okay, so listen…There’s this really bad thing that I need to do, but before you shoot down your lightning bolts and lasers, hear me out. This is just…to prove a point. It’s just to prove that I’m not really gay, and that it’s just the Devil using Dee to tempt me to sin. So like…it’s not bad, okay?”

Mac waited a moment, expecting a booming voice to yell at him from the heavens, but when he peeked his eye open, he was still alone and in one piece. No scorch marks or anything.

“Okay…so we’re all cool, right God? I can do this and it won’t get sent straight to hell? Don’t say anything if it’s okay,” he prompted, pausing for another moment. “Right. Sweet. Thanks bro. Signing out—amen,” he finished, making the sign of the cross over himself before turning back to the computer.

But what to search?

Mac chewed on his lip as he considered. “How about,” he murmured to himself, typing as he spoke. “Gay…dicks…in…butts…?” he tried.

The page took an eternity to load, and Mac wasn’t even sure he had been breathing the whole time he waited. And then, slowly but surely, a list of websites came up, leaving an uncomfortable twist in his gut as he looked over the results and finally picked one at random.

Splashed across the front page were images of all different kinds of men in incredibly compromising situations—not unlike regular porn. Each of them had a title just like they did in normal porn, he reasoned. He just had to pick a random one, watch it, and see if he got a boner. It was totally scientific and brilliant.

And Mac was confident he wouldn’t get a boner because he was ready for the devil this time. No more of that ‘Surprise! It’s sin time!’ for him. And God would see him battle against all of that evil homo-sin shit, and he would have a straight shot to heaven.

Another unnecessarily long wait, and Mac was leaning in a little closer to the screen, prepared and ready with his eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown.

 _“Yeah, you like that?”_ An oily, muscled, man hissed, kneeling behind the smaller guy he was fucking, hands pressing the bottom’s knees against his chest while he just plowed on.

 _“Yes, sir, fuck yes, please,”_ the bottom whined, and Mac yelped and hit the ‘back’ button as fast as he could.

If his pants felt a little uncomfortable, it was only because he respected a man who worked out.

“Fucked up, nasty, gay shit,” Mac muttered to himself, hoping God heard him say it. “Where the fuck is the regular homo stuff,” he mumbled, scrolling through the list to find one that looked marginally more normal.

Finally settling on a video whose thumbnail looked like two average looking dudes kissing, and he made himself click it.

Swallowing, he watched the video start, a more natural opening scene than the other video that was just like ‘Boom gay, kinky, ass-plowing.’ The guys were kissing, the one with light brown hair laying on top of the other, his hand sliding down the guys sides. The other guy, hair dark and stature, overall, a bit smaller, had his hands grasping at his partner’s shoulders.

Mac watched silently as the man on top rolled his hips against the other, rutting them together, and the pressure in his jeans made Mac have to try and shift a bit.

After about fifteen or so seconds of that, the guy with the light brown hair poured a little lube onto his fingers, the camera shifting to show as he used his knees to make the bottom’s legs spread apart. Kissing down the darker-haired man’s stomach, he pressed a finger in, and the sound that echoed from Mac’s shitty speakers shot right through him.

One finger worked up to two, and then up to three, and if Mac was rubbing himself through his jeans, then he refused to acknowledge it.

 _“You want me, sweetheart?”_ the top asked, voice low, and it felt like he was whispering it right in Mac’s ear.

 _“Yes,”_ the bottom moaned, lifting up his hips and rutting against the air as the other man pulled away to slide on a condom. Mac was breathing a little hard, fumbling with his jeans, and he wondered what it was like to be so lost in a moment and desperate that his body would writhe like that. That girl certainly didn’t make him feel like that.

As soon as the lighter haired guy pushed in, Mac’s hand wrapped around himself, eyes glued to the screen, taking in all of its twisted, sinful, glory. The sounds…fuck, the moaning; the soft breaths and grunts as they found a rhythm, one man’s legs wrapped tightly around the others as he bucked his hips. It was so much more…masculine than he ever expected gay porn to be. These guys didn’t look weak—even the smaller one who was getting fucked. And getting fucked was considerably gayer than doing the fucking, in his opinion.

Mac’s hand found a rhythm that mimicked the pace the two men on screen set, and he knew deep down that it wouldn’t take long. His eyes weren’t just focused on the penetration like they were when he watched normal porn. His eyes traced the look of desperation and strain on their faces; the way hands dragged against skin; the way their muscles would bunch and release with every thrust.

Especially the top. Narrow features and a slim frame, but strong. His shoulders were still broad, and he loved the way the muscles in his back moved beneath his skin. And his expression was hungry, and desperate, and _lost_ in it all.

Did Dennis look like that when he fucked girls?

“Shit!” Mac yelped as the force of his finish felt like a punch to the gut. A shaking hand worked himself slowly, milking the last of the orgasm as sticky come coated his fingers. His face was red and eyes blown wide as he tried to catch his breath.

Trembling, his clean hand fumbled to close out the window and make the sinful noises and images go away. Of course that just left deafening silence as Mac yanked off his t-shirt, using it to clean off his hand and his dick as best he could.

The silence was definitely worse.

Standing up, he caught sight of himself in the mirror leaning against his wall, hair flopping in his face, cheeks red, looking far too scrawny for how badass he knew he could be.

But there was nothing badass about jerking off to two dudes fucking.

Mac groaned and tossed his shirt in the pile of dirty clothes.

Hitting the lights, Mac curled up in his bed, tugging the blanket over his head to block out all of the light. He just needed to sleep it off. He wasn’t thinking straight because he was still tired. He would be fine in a few hours.

If he was lucky, he wouldn’t wake up, and he wouldn’t have to deal with it. God would be like, ‘Mac, my son. Welcome to heaven!’ And Mac would kneel before him, and they would both look ripped, and Mac would say, ‘My God, you know I’m not queer, right? I was just challenging the devil.’ And God would tell him to stand up, and assure him that he knew Mac’s heart was good and pure. He’d say ‘I love you, my son. Come sit next to me and let’s be totally awesome together.’

Mac smiled into his pillow, focusing on that fantasy alone until he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for all of the amazing support on here and on tumblr. you can follow me and yell at me about macdennis or iasip over at topdennis.tumblr.com :D


	3. Chapter 3

“Den-nis,” Mac whined, shoving Dennis’ shoulder. “I’m so bored.” 

“Dude, I’m gonna kill you if you shove me again,” Dennis quipped right back.

A little grin took to Mac’s lips. “Bet you couldn’t,” he replied, a little challenge in his tone.

Dennis turned his head to look at Mac properly, lowering his phone, eyebrows twitching together just a little bit in the way Mac knew meant he was about to switch into ‘Competitive Dennis.’

Good.

Like a flash, Dennis was rolled on top of him, a wide grin on his face as he tried to pin Mac down, but Mac was ready for him—he knew Dennis’ tells better than anyone. Immediately going for Dennis’ ribs, Mac tickled him, making the other boy’s grip on him falter.

“Suck it, dick,” Mac laughed, grabbing Dennis under the armpits and flipping him back.

“You bitch—You cheated!” Dennis snapped, legs kicking and hips bucking as he tried to get Mac off of him.

“Don’t whine and be a sore loser,” Mac mocked, balancing himself as Dennis tried to throw him off. “You’re trying to fight a badass—you don’t stand a chance.”

Dennis stared up at Mac, and Mac stared right back, trying to read what Dennis’ next mood was going to be. There was that wild look in Dennis’ eye again; the vein in his forehead that was a little more prominent than usual. He was scheming.

Suddenly, there was blinding pain shooting up from between Mac’s legs and he wheezed, tears springing to his eyes as he collapsed over Dennis. “D-Did you just—fuck, my _balls_ , you absolute shithead,” he groaned, reaching down to cup himself.

Dennis did not seem to give two fucks about the state he’d left Mac’s balls in, because Mac was on his back again, and Dennis was leaning over him, grinning like the goddamn devil.

The pain was slowly subsiding, and Mac was breathing hard from it as he glared up at Dennis. “Now who’s the cheater?” he grumbled.

“Don’t whine and be a sore loser,” Dennis quoted right back at him, face set and smug like the asshole he was.

And just like that, Mac’s thoughts got intrusive as fuck, and he was wholly aware that he and Dennis were positioned the same way as the guys in that porno.

Dennis’ expression above him shifted a little, Mac’s own glare faltering a bit.

Mac was hyper aware, now, of the way their hips were pressed together, Dennis’ smooth hands keeping his wrists pinned next to his head, and it sent a shot of exhilaration through him that broke through the last echoes of pain.

“You came thinking about me,” Dennis said, all matter-of-fact like it was plain as day.

Mac balked. Had he said any of that aloud? No—no of course he hadn’t! “W-What dude….gay,” he stammered, eyes wide and face warm.

“At home. You came at just the thought of me,” Dennis repeated, smirking down knowingly at Mac.

“How are you--?” Mac started, words dying in his mouth as Dennis leaned closer to his face.

“I think it’s kinda hot,” Dennis murmured, and a whimper escaped Mac’s lips that he definitely didn’t approve of.

“I’m not a fag, Den,” Mac tried to defend, but his tone fell flat as his eyes flicked between Dennis’ gaze and his mouth.

“Bullshit,” Dennis quipped right back, snorting a little. “You want me to kiss you.”

 _Yes._ “No!” Mac yelped, shaking his head. “No way. Absolutely not.”

“Then say ‘stop’ and I will.”

Mac opened his mouth, but his voice cut out. Some repressed part of himself—the sinful part of himself—didn’t want to stop Dennis.

“Go on,” Dennis prompted, grinding his hips down on Mac’s, earning another whimper. “Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.”

“Dennis…” Mac said softly, eyes dark with wanting, though he was doing his best to keep himself reigned in.

“Mac, what’s holding you back, hmm?” Dennis asked, leaning in a little closer, their noses brushing.

“M’not gay, Dennis,” Mac breathed, though his chin lifted a little despite himself.

“Not what Dee thinks,” Dennis grinned, and Mac could feel his huff of laughter against his lips.

“That _bitch_ is a dirty liar,” Mac bit out, eyebrows furrowing as he went on the defensive again.

“That _bitch_ just said what we all know,” Dennis replied matter-of-factly. “And I know she’s right. I’ve always known that about you.”

“How can I be gay if I fucked a girl last night?” Mac asked, raising a brow like he’d just pulled his hidden ace. “Faggots don’t successfully bang hot blondes. We both got off. It was sexy,” he added, trying to sell that he liked it.

Dennis didn’t bother to respond with words. Rolling his eyes, he leaned down, lips pressing firmly to Mac’s as the boy beneath him went completely still with shock.

Mac’s world turned upside down. His religious conscious was screaming at him that this was just the devil tempting him with more impure thoughts, but Dennis’ lips on him felt like he was breathing for the first time. It was so different from the suffocating kiss from the blonde—too much hair, too soft, and that overwhelming perfume.

But Dennis was different. It wasn’t rough and firm like he’d seen in that porno, and it wasn’t as hungry as kissing that blonde. It was confident, and encouraging, and everything felt as though it had shifted just two inches to the left and clicked into place. It wasn’t earth shattering. It wasn’t some grandiose realization. It wasn’t the moment he pushed out of the tub and took a rasping breath of air. It was more like the first breath he took after the coughing subsided and the water was gone from his lungs. Full. Deep. A relief.

Kissing Dennis was a relief. He could forget God and heaven and hell because this was somehow exactly where he needed to be.

As Dennis pulled back, Mac arched up to follow, eyes still closed. Opening them meant he was back in the real world. It meant he had to face a very scary reality.

“Mac,” Dennis prompted, thumb lightly running over the exposed strip of Mac’s wrists.

Slowly, Mac opened his eyes, face red. He couldn’t meet Dennis’ gaze. He couldn’t see his mocking, knowing, grin. He hated when Dennis won because the Reynolds twins were the sorest winners he ever met. But Dennis didn’t _really_ win, right? Because he didn’t prove Mac was gay. He’d just caught him off guard. Surprised him. Yeah.

“You wanna try that excuse about fucking the girl again?” Dennis asked, though his voice wasn’t as gloating as it could have been. Mac chanced a brief glance to the other boy’s face before stubbornly looking away again.

“Pretty gay of you to kiss me, dude,” he tried, and he could _feel_ Dennis roll his eyes.

And then the mood shifted just a little. “Fine,” Dennis replied, climbing off of Mac and sighing as he laid down beside of him, their shoulders barely even brushing. “Fine, then I’ll never do that again. You want to kiss me, you can initiate it.”

Oh.

Mac turned his head to stare at Dennis, eyes a little big and worried as he stared at Dennis. He didn’t think Dennis would give up so easily, or leave the ball so firmly in his court. “W-Well good,” Mac stammered. “Cause that was gross and I totally never wanna do it again. Thanks for proving I’m no fairy,” he added stubbornly, crossing his arms.

Dennis only shrugged, turning on the television. “Whatever you say, dude,” he replied evenly.

Well, that had backfired harder than Mac intended. Why did he have to go and ruin a good thing? Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut and let Dennis keep doing gay shit with him and then claim innocence later when he prayed to God?

“I can prove I’m not gay,” Mac blurted out, staring up at the ceiling. Because he wasn’t _gay_. He was…proving that it was just a weird moment and that it didn’t really mean anything. It was just a surprise and he had himself under control.

“Yeah?” Dennis asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Mac beside him. “And how do you propose to do that?”

Mac was caught up in Dennis’ stupid eyes, knowing his best friend was reading him like a goddamn book. But Mac was a fan of plausible deniability. “I bet you can’t make me hard,” he said before he could think too hard about it.

Dennis’ lip quirked up, his words coming out stuttered as he tried to hold back a laugh. “Y-You want me to try and get you hard...to prove you’re not gay?” he asked, clearly fighting off a huge grin.

“Try is the big word there, Den. You’re not gonna be successful because you’re ugly and I’m straight,” Mac replied, feigning confidence as he crossed his arms. Master Manipulator Mac, he decided he should be known as. Dennis may have thought he knew how to manipulate his friends better than anyone but watch out! Brain-ninja Mac was killing it today.

It would be perfect. He would force Dennis to initiate so that God wouldn’t get all mad and blame Mac, and it would be even further proof to the big guy that Mac was straight and stronger than the Devil’s temptations.

(And maybe Mac was just a little bit curious as to why he felt the way he did when Dennis kissed him.)

Putting up far less resistance to Mac’s idea than Mac had anticipated, he blinked and Dennis was on him again, foreheads pressed together. “M’gonna make you beg for me,” Dennis murmured, pressing his lips firmly to Mac’s before Mac could get out a retort.

And just like that, Mac was breathing free and clear again. He was floating. Dennis didn’t smell like flowers and suffocating perfume. He smelled like honey and almonds, and whatever weird product he put in his stupid curly hair.

Mac kissed back this time--it wouldn’t be fair to Dennis if Mac didn’t _try_ , he reasoned--and he felt a little thrill rush through his gut.

Dennis didn’t waste any time, clearly determined to prove his point as fast as he could. Clearly, his plan was just to overwhelm Mac’s senses so that Mac wouldn’t be able to battle the devil off, but Mac was _ready._

Okay, maybe he _thought_ he was ready.

Not missing a beat, Dennis’ lips traveled down Mac’s jaw, following the line of it up to the hollow behind his ear, wandering hands running down the other boy’s sides as his thumbs came to splay across his hipbones.

“You don’t really think you can win this, do you, Mac?” Dennis asked next to his ear, voice breathy and low.

“C-Course I do,” Mac mumbled, eyes falling closed as his fingers clutched at the front of Dennis’ shirt.

“Oh, _Mac_ ,” Dennis cooed in that way that was just a little patronizing and cause Mac to drop his gaze like a naive child.

“You’re probably a virgin. Bet you don’t even know what you’re doing,” Mac mumbled, goosebumps running up and down his arms as the cool air hit the damp places Dennis left with his mouth.

Okay, maybe he knew Dennis wasn’t a virgin, but he had to taunt him somehow.

“Would a virgin know how to do this?” Dennis asked, moving one of his hands from his hip to run over the swell in Mac’s sweatpants, earning a yelp as Mac bit his lip. “Oh? You like that?” he asked, tone teasing.

“You’re a fucking asshole and...and that’s not doing anything for me,” Mac replied. It didn’t work when the girl did it, right? So it logically wouldn’t work when Dennis did it either. That was just science. His dick didn’t like a hand that wasn’t his own.

Except maybe it did. Mac wasn’t even _thinking_ about porn like he had last night, but he could feel the tell-tale signs of his briefs starting to get tight.

No, no, no, no, no--Dennis wasn’t going to let him live this down.

“Oh...what’s that there, Mac?” Dennis asked, eyebrows raising as honey eyes watched Mac’s reactions like a hawk.

Mac had his bottom lip so firmly between his teeth that he thought he might draw blood. He couldn't make a sound. He had to stay silent.

“Don’t keep quiet on me, Mac,” Dennis muttered, sliding his hand down the front of Mac’s trousers, skipping right over the underwear so that he was suddenly holding Mac in his hand, skin against skin, and the shock of it was enough to earn a proper moan from Mac, the sound of which made his face go red and his mouth fall closed.

Biology...it...it was biology, Mac told himself. Someone touching his dick was bound to make him hard.

 _That girl couldn’t do it_ , the evil part of his brain retorted.

“Fuck you!” Mac said out loud, earning a raised eyebrow from Dennis.

“Please, I’d be fucking you,” Dennis replied, not missing a beat. “Sweet of you to offer, though.” Dennis worked his hand up and down Mac’s hardening cock one, two, three times before pulling his hand free. “And also I win,” he added with a wink.

Mac felt like a mess. He was shaky and warm and he whimpered at the hand gone from his pants. “W-Wait, what are you--,” he started before he cut off the words, knowing he wasn’t doing a great job of acting.

“I got you hard. I proved I could turn you on, and that you’re gay,” Dennis replied lazily, folding his hands on Mac’s chest as he continued to lay on top of him.

“But...you...I mean,” Mac stammered, trying to find the straightest way to say that he was straight but also that Dennis should finish what he fucking started because this felt a little excessively rude.

Dennis’ lip quirked up in a half smile, eyes narrowing. “Unless you liked it so much you wanted to finish…?” he asked, practically reading Mac’s mind.

Or maybe Mac was just that fucking obvious.

“Well, if you want me to finish you off, then this has to be a two way street,” Dennis reasoned, reaching out and thumbing at Mac’s bottom lip. “And you need to initiate it.”

Mac froze, eyes flashing up to stare at Dennis. “What? What? Why, come on that’s stupid, Dennis, you starting this you can keep starting it,” Mac rambled, though he knew his own logic was flawed.

“Nope. Because I’m tired of your bullshit denial,” Dennis quipped, pinching Mac’s lip, pulling it away, and then letting it go to bounce back into place, a little redder where he’d been playing with it.

“I’m not in den--,” Mac started when suddenly Dennis’ thumb was pushing through his lips and teeth to rest on his tongue. He instinctively sucked a little, tasting a little saltiness that he belatedly realized was his own precome. Guilty eyes flashed up to Dennis as he quickly released the thumb, turning his head to spit, though admittedly, it wasn’t as bad as he imagined it would have been.

“Kiss me and we’ll keep going,” Dennis said firmly. “That’s the only way.”

Mac squirmed under Dennis a little, heartrate starting to pick up. Kiss Dennis? Initiate such a big-deal sin? Would it be like confessing he was gay? He still had some deniability, but the ledge he was standing on was seriously starting to crumble, and there was something deep within him that wanted to just jump right into the devil’s fiery pits.  

But what would his parents say? What if one day when they died they went to heaven like the good Catholics they were and waited and waited for Mac to come up, but had to watch him go to hell instead because he couldn’t resist the temptation to do something terrible.

Normally Mac thought fire was cool, but hellfire was different. The Father always said it burned forever, and water never stopped it, and that worse, he would never stop feeling it. He would never pass out or go numb or feel a second of relief. Just an endless, inexplicable, pain because he couldn’t control his weird, abnormal, urges.

“Shh, Mac,” Dennis’ voice cut through, fingers carding through his hair. “Shh, it’s okay, man.” His voice was cool and smooth, and Mac could feel his heart rate starting to crawl back down.

“D-Den, this is a bad idea,” Mac worried, trying to wriggle from beneath Dennis, but it sparked friction on his hard-on and dragged a hungry gasp from his throat.

“Wait—wait,” Dennis urged, reaching behind him and struggling a little to pull the blanket over their heads so that the light just barely filtered through.

Mac blinked up at Dennis, eyebrows meeting nervously in the middle. This was his eternal soul they were toying with, and he was supposed to be stronger than this nonsense. “What are you doing, Den?” Mac asked, voice a little smaller than he was hoping it would come out.

Mac wasn’t small. Mac was tough. Tough and straight.

“This is your weird God thing, right?” Dennis asked, clearly trying his best to be patient.

“It’s not a ‘weird God thing,’” Mac argued. “It’s called being a good Catholic and wanting to go to heaven.”

“Same thing. Anyway, so like…he can’t see you under here. Whatever happens under these blankets stays between us, yeah?” Dennis prompted. “We don’t even have to talk about it after if you don’t want to. Even though you should and the whole God thing is a load of self-indulgent bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit! And I think our Almighty Lord and Father can see through your comforter,” Mac huffed.

Though it was a tempting thought, he supposed.

“Nah, man, listen to me, I’m telling you,” Dennis insisted, pressing his pointer finger to Mac’s lips, easily silencing him. “God’s supposed be all forgiving, isn’t he?" 

“And all knowing,” Mac interjected from behind Dennis’ finger, but the younger boy only pushed his finger a little harder to his lips.

“Forgiveness is a whole big thing in the Church--I know that much. So just let go...just once. Let go and try something you never thought you would, and all of the details stay under the blanket. And then, when we’re done, you can pray for forgiveness for whatever happened under here, and boom. Soul is safe,” Dennis murmured, face alight with mischief despite how dark it was under the blanket.

That had Mac quiet for a moment as he ran it through his thoughts. Did that logic hold up? It kinda sounded like a loophole, but he supposed he hadn’t actually _read_ the bible to know if it was true or not.

“Don’t you wanna know what you are?” Dennis cooed, running his fingers through Mac’s hair again.

Mac wasn’t stupid; Dennis was manipulating him to prove a point. But Mac had always had a weakness for Dennis’ crazy ideas, and he sounded just like he did when he was scheming.

And there was that little thrill again.

“You really think I can just...vaguely ask for forgiveness for what happens under here? You think God really won’t know what I did?” Mac asked uncertainly.

“I promise,” Dennis nodded, corners of his lips twitching up. “C’mon, Mac. Make a move.”

The scent of Dennis under the blankets was more concentrated than he was used to, and the other boy was warm on top of him, curls caught in the blanket, and there was still that aching pressure against his groin.

Seeming to sense that Mac just needed one last little push over the edge, Dennis ground his hips down into Mac’s, and just like that, Dennis was swallowing the other boy’s groans as their lips meant, hard and fast. 

Mac’s brain shut off as he just let go, hands moving from the front of Dennis’ shirt down his chest, up his sides, shivering at the little touch of smooth skin he got between the hem of his shirt and his pants.

Seeming to know that Mac was only ready for so much, Dennis took the lead after that, tired of having too many pieces of fabric between them. Nipping Mac’s lip once, Dennis pulled back enough that he had room to function and pushed Mac’s shirt up, dragging his nails back down the exposed stretch of skin.

Mac was lost, gulping in air as he arched into Dennis’ touches. Just one time, he would indulge. And then he would never do it again. He’d lock it all back up inside and throw away the key. Pretend it never happened once God forgave him. Squeezing his eyes closed, Mac lifted his hips as Dennis pulled at his pants and briefs, sliding them off of his narrow hips and letting them settle around Mac’s thighs. Following suit with his own, Dennis laid down and kissed down his stomach, nails scraping down his sides until his nose was in the tuft of hair at Mac’s base.

“D-Dennis?” he asked, because there was no way in goddamn hell Dennis was going to go down on him. Nuh-uh. Not Dennis Reynolds. Even though he supposed Dennis’ lips around him would probably be gorgeous, all red and swollen, and he wouldn’t mind-- _no._

Squeezing Mac’s thigh, Dennis grinned. “Just relax,” he reminded, dragging his tongue up the underside of his cock like he’d watched so many porn stars do. But this was different. This was fucking _hot_. And then wet heat closed around him, and he let his head fall back, a groan spilling out as he bucked his hips up into Dennis’ mouth.

This is what it was supposed to feel like. The shock of it hit him like a truck. This is what sex with that girl should have felt like. “Dennis,” he whimpered out, reaching to tangle his fingers in Dennis’ hair.

But he didn’t just want this. Head felt amazing, but kissing felt even better, and he wanted to kiss Dennis more than he ever wanted to admit to. Feeling bold, he dragged Dennis back up by his hair, pulling him in for a kiss that was very different from the chaste, tempting, one from earlier. This was hard and desperate and needy. Their noses bumped, and it was all a bit clumsy, but that made it feel so much more _real_ than the night before.

Dennis pulled away from the kiss long enough to look between them, erections rubbing together. Deciding to run with it, Dennis took both of them in one hand, slender fingers closing around them easily enough. The first tug made them both whine, and it was all a rush from there. Sloppy kisses and love bites kept their mouths busy through errant moans and keens as Dennis worked them both, hips moving in a rough unison as the tension between them built and built.

“Fuck, Dennis,” Mac whimpered out, voice pitched and soft and needy and everything he said he never would let himself be, but here he was, ready and willing and open. “Dennis, I think I’m close,” he warned.

“Say it,” Dennis forced out, growling the words into Mac’s ear. “Say that you’re gay.”

“I’m gay.”

The words fell from Mac’s lips before he could think twice about them. He was too lost in the feeling, and the sweat, and the scent, and the way their bodies moved together--God was nowhere to be seen, and Mac was glad, because he would have time for shame later. He didn’t want anything to ruin this high. 

“Say it again,” Dennis groaned, worrying Mac’s earlobe between his teeth.

Mac didn’t notice his eyes were tearing. “I-I’m gay,” he said again, choking the words out as the coil in his gut grew too tight. “Fuck, Dennis, come on me, please come, please,” he pleaded, nails digging into Dennis’ sharp shoulder blades.

Dennis was the first to come, the sticky rope coating his hand, Mac’s dick, and Mac’s stomach. “One more time, Mac...say it one more time, baby.”

“I’m gay!” Mac shouted, eyes squeezing shut tight and feeling the blow to his gut that was his climax, leagues away from the discomfort he felt with that girl; a feeling he didn’t know he could get from anyone, especially his best friend.

Mac opened his eyes to the dark of his room, face shining with tears and pants sticky and wet. Dennis was gone and the sheets were damp with sweat. His chest heaved for breath as he sat up and looked around.

Gone was Dennis’ plush, queen-sized bed. Gone was his warm duvet. Gone was the smell of honey and almonds. Gone was Dennis.

The only thing left in the room was the echoing words “I’m gay,” ringing in his ears.

He was gay. A faggot. A queer. A fairy. He couldn’t imagine the other choice words his father would have for someone like him. Mac held his face in his hands. There was no praying this away. Even if he never acted on it, this was who he was. He couldn’t deny it anymore--not after that. 

And Mac felt so painfully certain that he would burn in hell for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mac. One chapter left and it should be up around Sunday/Monday~ And then comes part two!
> 
> Mad at me? Happy with me? Comment here with your thoughts, or yell at me over on tumblr @topdennis! :]


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well friends, here's the last chapter of Part I. If religious guilt is something that bothers you, I would maybe tread lightly going forward!

Mac did not sleep that night.  
  
His stomach hurt with hunger and guilt, but he was pretty sure he’d puke if he tried to eat anything.  
  
Could God read dreams? Did he see Mac’s worst thoughts? He supposed it didn’t matter. He was made broken God was all-knowing, after all. 

  
He wasn’t meant for heaven because God didn’t want him there. If he did, he wouldn’t have made Mac the embodiment of sin. Mac didn’t have to act on it ever in his life, but because of his thoughts and urges, God was going to punish him with eternal suffering.  
  
And his parents. His mother would stop talking all together with the worry for Mac’s eternal soul, and his father? He was going to be so disappointed for having such a weak son when he was such a badass. His father was the most amazing man he ever got to know, so how did he turn out to be such flawed stock?  
  
Mac hugged the pillow to his chest, burying his face in it as he resisted crying like a little girl again. He wasn’t man enough to enjoy a gorgeous girl riding him. He wasn’t man enough to tell Dee to fuck off when she tried to tell him he was a faggot. He gave into temptation like some kind of little kid when he put that gay porn on.  
  
And his dreams? Those were the biggest source of his shame. He wasn’t even the master of his own fantasies. He was a little bitch on his back while he let Dennis— _Dennis_ —take the lead. He let a dream-version of Dennis goddamn Reynolds touch him and kiss him and murmur dirty things in his ear and—  
  
\--And he felt himself shiver at just the thought.  
  
What the fuck was wrong with him?  
  
No. This was bullshit, and Mac had a complaint to file with the big man upstairs.  
  
Mac let out a slow breath as he tried to keep himself under control, shifting so that his legs were folded in front of him with the pillow in his lap. Resting his elbows on the pillow, he brought his hands together in prayer, closed his eyes, and bowed his head.  
  
“Dear God,” he started, deciding to go in without a plan and just hope that he came out the other end with some kind of a resolution. “No offense, man, but what the fuck?”  
  
Okay, maybe that was pushing it with the guy who could smite him right then and there.  
  
“Uh…sorry…but like…how is this fair? I’ve been trying so hard to prove that I’m a good son to you, right? I mean, you gotta see that much. I pray all the time. I tell people when I see them being sinners so that they don’t go to hell. I tell Dennis all the time because he’s convinced you don’t exist, but he’s gonna be my hardest job. I’m still working at him, so don’t condemn him to hell yet—gimme a little time there. But that’s not the point.”  
  
Mac sighed, rubbing his face. “My point is, I’ve been a good Catholic, I think. I try to be as badass as possible and I do it all in your name. So why the hell did you make me so…so…so broken? I reject gay shit—I always have. But I’ve been having these thoughts against my will, and my body reacts to shit that only faggots are supposed to like, and I don’t know why? Okay, I mean I know why. I’m…you made me…”  
  
Just say it. Treat it like confession and say it and pray that God will forgive. That he’ll explain why Mac was set up to fail.  
  
“Gay,” Mac whispered, silent for a long minute as he waited for hellfire to start raining. When nothing happened, his words tripped out of his mouth in a downpour. “I’m sorry, Father, but it’s bullshit. Through and through. I can’t help it which means you made me like this. You made me all broken and fucked-up and it’s like…are you enjoying this? Are you enjoying watching me suffer and struggle to be the son you want me to be? The son they talk about in church? I’ve tried so hard to control it, but I can’t, and that’s not my fault. You made me gay and destined me for hell before I was born, and it’s not fair!”  
  
The last work came out choked and his fingers clenched into fists, laced together and squeezing so tight that his knuckles were white. “Why would you make me a fag? Why would you make me something you hate? Something my parents would hate? Why would you make it that I’ll be alone for the rest of my life? Cause I can’t act on it, can I? Or I’ll end up even deeper in hell than I will now. I’ll have to marry some stupid girl that I don’t like, and have stupid children because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you get married, right? And to have those dumb kids, I’m gonna have to have sex and do it a lot and I don’t want to feel that again.”  
  
Mac hit his head into his hands, focusing on the ache in his forehead to keep himself from slipping into another one of those attacks he had at Dee’s. No one was here to help him breathe again and if he was gonna go to hell, at least he wanted to put it off as long as he could. How stupid would that be? To drown and not even be in the water? One more way he was a total fuck up at life.  
  
“So I either suffer for the rest of my life having to be with some girl I don’t like, or I live my life alone. I don’t wanna be alone, God. That’s bullshit, I’m sorry, but it is and I don’t deserve that. I just don’t. I won’t have my friends forever. Dee will probably either find some ugly guy who’s into birds, or she’ll just die alone by thirty. Charlie will eventually figure out he likes sex, and get hitched and huff glue and drink with her instead of me. And…”

Mac’s brain froze at Dennis, like the idea of a future without the other boy in it was incomprehensible. Would Dennis really stop caring about him one day? Stop talking to him? Would he start scheming with some girl and replace Mac? He knew Dennis was going to college soon, but he promised they could still hang out on weekends… 

What if Dennis just stopped coming to see him? The thought of it had his chest getting all tight again. Dennis, Charlie, and Dee were all he had in the world and he wasn’t ready to exist without them. 

“There’s gotta be another way, God,” Mac said weakly. My only other choice is to live with sin and...and just keep asking for forgiveness. But like...I'm not stupid. Everyone says I am, but I'm not. If you keep sinning on purpose, I feel like the forgiveness becomes bullshit. So I would just be living in like...constant sin and sure, maybe I'll be happy, but then I spend the rest of eternity in a whole worse kinda hell, and that sounds like shit.”

Mac sighed and fell back on his bed, staring up at his dark ceiling, dragging his hands down his face. 

3:00 AM. He would have to be up for church in four and a half hours, and he was really dreading it. Maybe that was where God would smite him. Maybe he’d step foot on the marble floor and burst into flames. It would look badass, but he knew it wouldn't feel it. And everyone would know why and his parents would hate him. 

Alright, he had to try and go through this logically. “Alright, Father. Listen up. I'm gonna break this down with you, and I'm gonna make a decision. And if it's the wrong one...I'm sorry. 

“Okay so option one. Marry some chick and bang her and have kids and do that whole thing. Pro? I wouldn't be alone. Con? ...pretty much every other aspect of being with a girl. And honestly, is living with a girl you hate that much worse than being alone? Which brings me to choice number two.”

Mac chewed his lip, drumming his fingers on his chest as he focused on keeping his breathing even and calm for a moment. “So number two is to be alone forever. I’m still…the way I am, but I don’t act on it. Pros. Uh. Well, I mean I guess I don’t go deeper into hell than I’m already going to be. Cons…what’s the actual likelihood that I’ll make any other friends when the gang ditches me. I can tell you: none. I don’t need to tell you though because I’m sure you already know.”

That left the last option—the option he was the most afraid to try and talk through. Even though his parents were sleeping and never woke up when he made noise, paranoia made him lower his voice. “Option three—and don’t get mad at me for talking through it—is…if I…y’know…be with guys. I know it’s a sin, but I still gotta do the pros and cons, alright? Okay so…cons first, yeah? Big con is the internal punishment thing. Obviously. And my parents hating me if they ever found out. And the church hating me. And you hating me. Pros?” Mac hesitated, afraid to even list the good things about being gay and out and stuff. But he had to be honest about it so God knew why he made whatever decision he made. “Pros are that I’ll probably at least get to be happy and not lonely while I’m alive before I go to hell.”

And that was what it came down to, wasn’t it? Mac closed his eyes, feeling like he was back at the edge of that cliff. Options one and two meant he was alone and/or miserable for the rest of his life,  _ and _ that he probably wound up in hell just for being gay in his heart. But option three meant that at least he could be happy before his eternal soul tone a sharp nosedive. And…and he supposed his parents didn’t  _ have _ to know. Maybe Dee would do him a solid and let him tell his parents he was dating her if they ever got suspicious.

Was this it? Was he really going to do this? “God?” he said hesitantly. “Look…you did this to me, alright? You set me up to be an abomination, and I tried not to be, but I don’t know if I can really change this. I…I have to at least try for real. If I’m gonna go to hell no matter what, I may as well be happy until I do. Maybe I can work through it. Maybe I’ll kiss a dude and I’ll hate it and this won’t be a big deal. I’ll beg forgiveness, and you can give me a second chance, and it’ll all be fine. But on the off chance it doesn’t…”

Mac swallowed hard, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if God was shaking his head at him in disappointment. “I’m sorry.” 

Making the sign of the cross over himself, Mac let his arms fall to his sides. Done. He did it. He made a decision and he was going to stick with it. 

And he was going to tell Dennis tomorrow. He had to go to church, and on the odd chance he didn’t combust as soon as he walked inside it, and the holy water didn’t burn him, he would go over to the Reynolds’ place right after work. He’d put on a movie and lay next to Dennis, and he’d tell him. He’d say, ‘Den, I think I’m gay.’ And if there was any sense of mercy or justice in the world, Dennis would wrap an arm around him, say it didn’t matter to him, and he would make the most of being happy while he could.

Mac deserved that much, he told himself.

Mac changed and went to the bathroom to clean himself off, feeling weirdly light and more relaxed than he had in longer than he could remember. Cleaned up, he headed back to his room, falling into it and closing his eyes. He had to get what little sleep he could before church in the morning.

If he let his imagination drift to what it might be like if Dennis had any interest in him, he supposed that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

*          *          *

Mac startled awake at the bang on his door that told him he was late. Glancing at his clock, he realized he’d slept right through his alarm. No time for breakfast before they left for church, so he supposed he’d just have to get Dennis to let him raid his kitchen.

Tugging on his ‘nice’ jeans and fumbling to button his shirt, he toed into his shoes and ran downstairs, hair sticking up a little in the back and flopping in front of his face. The last thing he wanted was his parents to be annoyed with him for taking too long, but in his rush, he tripped on his shoelace, sending him right into Luther McDonald.

And just like that, the fear that had subsided from the night before was back in full force, because his father was sharp and if anyone was gonna take one look at Mac and realize he was a faggot, it was his father. Heart racing, he braced himself for the worst as he gave a very quiet, “Sorry, dad.”

Luther raised an eyebrow as he looked down his nose to Mac, shrugging him off with a grunt and heading out the front door. Mac’s mom followed out after him, cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

Letting out a relieved sigh, he trotted after his parents to the old family car, hopping in the back seat and breathing the familiar scent of stale cigarettes and booze. So much had changed for Mac, but the world around him still seemed to stay the same. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

It probably didn’t mean anything and he was just losing it.

Mac wondered what would happen when he walked into church. He told himself it would be okay. 

Maybe he didn’t believe it, but it was better to pretend he did.

The ride was short and loud—their muffler had been shot to shit for months—and then the were standing beneath the church, and while it wasn’t fancy by any stretch, the cross looming over him from the steeple was admittedly intimidating. But as he crossed the landing…he was fine. The holy water he touched with his fingers didn’t burn. The Father didn’t look at him like he was Devil’s spawn.

Maybe this really could be okay.

Mac was good through the whole service. He said every response and sang every song. Maybe God understood what he had forced Mac to do. Maybe he forgave him. Mac wouldn’t go so far as to assume he still had a chance at heaven, but at least feeling like God didn’t completely hate or abandon him was a relief.

As Mass ended, Mac stood, heading for the door, but his father caught the back of his collar. “Ah, ah, ah. Monthly confession, Mac. Go on.

Shit.

“Isn’t that next week?” Mac tried to deflect, scratching at his nose to look less guilty. “I thought it was…”

Luther only raised his eyebrow and Mac knew better than to argue. Sighing, he walked over to the like for the confessional, standing behind a few older folk as he watched the other kids in the church laughing as they rushed out.

Swallowing, he dropped his gaze again. He couldn’t lie in confessional. Not with the sins he already had under his belt. This was going to be the only way he could maybe lessen them a little bit. 

Slowly, the old people filtered through one by one, confessing what was probably some stupid shit. ‘Oh, I lied about eating a donut when I’m on a diet.’ ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t put a dollar in the charity bucket.’ Stupid little bullshit sins God wouldn’t hold against them. 

It was different than confessing he was gay in God’s own house.

Finally it was his turn and he let himself into the little booth, sitting in the dark space. He inched as far as he could from the little partition so that the priest couldn’t see his face.

“F-Forgive me father for I have sinned,” Mac started, making the sign of the cross. 

“Confess your sins, my son,” the Father said from the other side. 

Mac’s heart was in his throat. “I...I’ve been talking with the big man about it--God, I mean. I’ve been praying,” he restarted, staring down at his feet, rubbing sweaty palms on his knees. “And he helped me work through something, but...it’s still a sin.”

“Through God’s love, I can help you find forgiveness and maintain salvation,” the priest murmured. “What is your sin?”

Mac was quiet for a moment. “Does...Does God make people wrong? Like people who are broken and going to hell no matter what?” he redirected.

The priest was quiet for a moment. “God does not make mistakes, and Jesus died on the cross to cleanse you of original sin. That is what the sacrament of Baptism is about. So you are not born in such a way that you will go to hell. Do you think that God made you wrong, my son?”

Mac’s eyes flicked up, foot bouncing nervously. “He...he made me gay,” he whispered.

Silence hung between the Father and Mac, and he thought he was going to explode from the pressure.

“Have you acted on these urges, my son?” the priest asked quietly.

“No, Father,” Mac replied. Dreams didn’t count. “Oh...well...okay so I watched a little porn of it to try and figure out what was wrong with me, but I haven’t done anything with a guy,” he was quick to clarify. No lying in confession. 

“Listen to me very carefully, young man,” the priest said, shifting closer to the partition. “God did not make you this way. It is an abnormality and a weakness of the human spirit, but it does not define you.”

Mac frowned, shoulders curling a little. “No, but...but Father, I don’t want to be like this. I didn’t choose it. I tried to be with a girl and I didn’t like it. It’s like...it’s like my body is on autopilot or some shit--stuff. Or...or something,” he said, the words falling out of his mouth. “I’m not weak.”

“Homosexuality and sodomy are sins, my son. The Bible is clear. I can give you the passages to read if it will help you. I know the media has been spewing temptations left and right for those who are sick in their minds, but you must be strong. You must be steadfast. God will forgive you for this lapse in judgement if you show him that you are righteous of heart and spirit and do not give into such sinful desires,” the priest said, voice low but firm.

“So...so you’re saying there’s still a chance I can go to heaven?” Mac asked, shifting a little closer as well, turning his body to face the partition.

“There is always hope for the fallen to find grace again. It is God’s will that he welcome’s all of his children home to him. Do you want to be a child of God, my son?”

“Of course, Father,” Mac murmured. 

“Do you want to make your parents proud?”

Mac’s voice dropped a little. “Yes.”

“Do you want to find eternal peace and joy in the afterlife?”

Mac sniffed, the weight he’d shed from the night before creeping back up onto his shoulders. He held his head in his hands. He still had a chance at heaven? He could still go? He hadn’t weighed that in with his pros and cons earlier. So what if he suffered here on earth if it meant he had a future in heaven? Yeah, he would be lonely, and it would be hard, but...but maybe… “How?” he asked weakly.

“Fight this affliction,” the Priest pushed. “Do what you must to train yourself to want to find the woman who is to be your other half; the woman who will bear your sons to carry your lineage. When you are tempted with lying with men, punish yourself to learn to lose that appetite. Many men have overcome their sinful ways to become proud members of this parish. Men who have gone on to have wives and children and to find happiness in life. Be strong like I know you can be.”

Strong. He  _ was _ strong. It was just his sick brain making him weak, but he was tough and the Father was right. He almost gave into the devil, but no way was Mac gonna let him get one over on him. He could learn to be straight. He could learn how to like girls.

Mac could still go to heaven.

“Thank you, Father. I’ll fix this. I promise, I won’t stray again,” Mac said emphatically, though his chest felt tight and uncomfortable. Obviously it was just because he had cut it so close to fucking up. 

“Come here often and I will teach you what I’ve taught many others in correcting deviant behavior,” the priest reminded. “May God absolve you of all of your sins. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

“Amen.”

Mac felt a little lightheaded as he stepped out of confessional, spotting his parents through the window where his mother was smoking on the front steps. Pushing himself to catch up, he stopped at tap on his shoulder.

Turning around, he blinked, eyes widening. “You’re...you’re the girl from…” he stuttered, the smell of flowers half-choking him.

“Amy,” the pretty blonde from the party introduced, holding out her hand. “We were both a little drunk, so I might have forgotten to tell you my name.”

“I uh...I’m sorry I ran out like that,” Mac said, swallowing a little. “I wasn’t feeling well…”

“No hard feelings,” Amy promised with a sweet smile. “But...you can make it up to me,” she added, biting her bottom lip as she smiled. 

“How?” Mac asked obliviously, head tipping to the side as she stepped closer.

“Take me out for some ice cream?” she asked, reaching out to push some of the hair off his face. 

A date. Shit. She wanted to go on a date. “Well, I--,” Mac started before pausing, glancing at the confessional where the Priest was standing outside of it, giving him a knowing smile. 

A date with a girl. A chance to show God he was sorry for almost fucking up so bad. A date with a girl he already had sex with anyway, and who was actually interested in him. “Okay,” he forced out, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Amy smiled and looped her arm around his. “Lead the way,” she encouraged.

Mac’s mouth was dry as he lead the pair of them out of the church, watching his parents already going to the car without him. He wouldn’t be missed. 

As they approached the corner, the girl stopped him and reached up to touch his face. “DIdn’t want to get in trouble for doing this at church,  _ but _ ,” she hummed, pushing onto her toes and cupping Mac’s cheeks as she kissed him firmly on the lips. 

And there was that drowning feeling again. He’d lost his footing and he was falling under the water. 

But then, maybe that was how it was supposed to feel to be cleansed of sin. The Father did mention Baptism during confession, didn’t he? When babies heads were dipped in holy water to make them not be little devil babies anymore? 

Maybe this was a kind of baptism. A cleansing of his sinful thoughts about guys. A cure. 

Mac forced himself to kiss back, ignoring how her smell made him want to throw up. He could learn to like this. 

“You wanna like...date or something?” he asked.

“I’d love that,” Amy replied, bouncing and giggling a little.

And just like that, Mac had a girlfriend. He was straight.

And neither he, nor anybody else could convince him otherwise. 

Not even Dennis Reynolds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU YELL AT ME, THERE *WILL* BE A PART II. But I wanted to hold to that key element of Mac's character that he doesn't come out until he is an adult. He isn't ready to face this part of himself yet, but you can bet Dennis is going to play a big part in him getting there in part two. Also, ideally, it will be more than four parts.
> 
> Comment here, or yell at me over at topdennis.tumblr.com :D Thank you everyone for your support!!

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 4/27/17: Hi all! As an update about the sequel, I'm so sorry it's taken so long, but I AM working on it. Between planning a wedding and also finding time to work on my original novel, time is very tight. But I do have an outline written. Now I just need to put the words on paper! Thanks again for all of your support, and know that I'm still alive and thinking of all of you!!


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